


Let The Games Begin

by naurae



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics, Alternate Universe - Olympics, Inspired by a post on tumblr, M/M, Multi, Olympics, basically the opening ceremony au no one wanted, dont even try, gratuitous use of instagram, he beautiful af fite me, its gay, kastuki yuuri is still an unreliable narrator, like really gay, lol if i get any political comments be prepared for sass, olympic figure skating, pyeongchang 2018, though i wish it was gayer, viktor is patriotic af yall, what do you know, when will our boy learn, you cant escape from my yuna kim references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 18:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13641684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naurae/pseuds/naurae
Summary: The Pyeongchang 2018 Winter Olympics Opening Ceremony. With fun and festivity for all.





	Let The Games Begin

**Author's Note:**

> so i saw this post on tumblr describing this and welp here we are. I legit have things to do i swear

Looking back, it wasn’t the lights or the chill or the viable tension in the atmosphere. It was the noise.

Yuuri supposed it was to be expected after all. When you have several hundreds if not thousands of people in the same area, the noise around you is going to sound like rushing waves on the rocks, turned way up in your earbuds. 

Minami-kun was no help. The younger skater had been clinging to Yuuri for the better part of the time since they had left the Olympic Village, and had perhaps accounted for a good thirty five percent of the noise in Yuuri’s ears. Considering their surroundings, that was no small feat. 

Lost in the current of the sounds around him, Yuuri wondered if this was what a bird felt like, when it dove. Lost to the currents of the rushing air, with no time for breath.  
His heart was speeding up in his chest. As had become his custom, he slipped his hands out of his gloves to briefly finger the gold band on his right ring finger. The smooth metal was soothing, and the coldness on his fingers brought him somewhat back to reality. 

Minami-kun was chatting up a storm on Yuuri’s left, to a girl about his age. Snowboarding world silver medalist, Koori Akiyama, only nineteen years old. Her turquoise dyed hair is striking against the red Japanese uniform they are all wearing, and she is speaking with an enthusiasm and speed to match Minami-kun. 

Yuuri steps away slightly, hoping they wouldn’t try to drag him into the conversation. Earlier, he’d narrowly avoided getting caught up in a selfie epidemic that had thankfully traveled back down the line. It was of course an incredible honor to even be here, representing Japan at the Olympics, but he wished Viktor would have let him skip the Walk of Nations. Though, knowing his fiancé, he hadn’t gotten his hopes up. 

The thought still put a pleasant shiver down his spine. The idea that he could apply the word fiancé to Viktor was a concept he was still attempting to get used to and doubted he would feel calm about anytime soon. 

The noise around him was still suffocating, intense, and all encompassing. But perhaps, here in his little bubble, calmly running his fingers over the edge the ring, and standing still, perhaps here it was peaceful. 

Minami-kun had attempted to soothe him earlier, as well as the boy was able. Huh, Yuuri still thought of him as a boy, even if they were only five years apart. Well, it wasn’t as though Minami-kun took great care to present a mature and collected face to the world. He still seemed ten years younger than his age, as Yuuri watched him giggle and bounce along side his teammate. 

His heartrate had calmed down slightly. The keyword being slightly. It was still pounding as though it wanted to escape his ribcage and fly back to his room in the village.  
Yuuri took a deep breath, and the noise faded into a distant cacophony. It was fine. Just people talking. Nothing he couldn’t deal with. His first event had been yesterday, and he wasn’t distraught over the results. Viktor was sitting pretty in first to no one’s surprise, and Yurio was still grouching over the fact that the RSF hadn’t assigned him to the team event. Yuuri had taken second in the short program, with JJ a good six points behind him in third. All in all, Yuuri wasn’t too concerned for the team event, since Japan had a strong showing in both pairs and ice dance. It was rather unspoken that the Ladies’ singles event was Mila Babicheva’s to lose, though Italy’s best was hot on her heels. 

His hands were beginning to turn slightly pink from the cold air. It wasn’t as bad as Yuuri suspected it would be in the stands, as the mass amount of people gathered here raised the temperature slightly. 

“Hello Yuuri,” was all the warning he got before he was encircled from behind by a pair of strong slender arms. 

Yuuri made a rather undignified squawking noise. “Viktor- “he sputtered, as the Russian tucked his cold face into Yuuri’s only slightly warmer neck, “What are you doing here? Your team is at the other end of- “he was cut off yet again, by Viktor pressing a quick openmouthed kiss to the side of his jaw. 

His fiancé’s melodic giggling was the next thing to greet his ears as Viktor stepped around to face him. He looked stunning as always, and his silver hair shimmered lightly in the bright stadium-esque lighting. The elegant white scarf and grey coat made for the OAR only served to heighten his stately, ethereal looks, and his face was beaming. 

It was a stark contrast to the Viktor of two months ago. When the message from the IOC had come out, he hadn’t spoken a word the whole day. In the following week he’d been rather withdrawn and hadn’t perked up until the JSF officially named Yuuri to their Olympic team. It had been a rough week for everyone involved. 

He seemed perfectly fine now, squinting slightly at Yuuri under the glaring lights. “What is it moy sladkiy?”

Yuuri shook his head, trying not to stare too hard at Viktor’s angelic countenance. “Nothing. Just tired.” 

Viktor’s smile turned smug. “Why, did I wear you out too much last night? Gracious Yuuri, I thought you had better stamina than that.”

Yuuri swatted at his arm ineffectually. “You’re incorrigible.” They had done nothing last night of what Viktor was implying. The most strenuous thing Yuuri recalled doing the night before was reaching down to take off his socks before mentally deciding to shower in the morning. 

The smirk hadn’t fallen from Viktor’s face at all. “Kto ya shuchu? My vse znayem, chto vy dominiruyete nad mnoy vsyu noch'.”

Before Yuuri could even dare to ask what that meant, there was a retching noise to the side. “Shut up old man.” Yurio appeared around the side of a teammate Yuuri didn’t know the name of and stalked over to Viktor. “It’s starting. They’re asking where you are.”

Viktor’s grin fell into a pout. “But- “

Yurio seemed prepared for this reaction. “No buts Nikiforov. Come on.” He glanced over to Yuuri. “Oi katsudon. Tell your boyfriend to go.”

Yuuri only smiled at the sixteen-year-old. “You both need to get back to your teammates.” Yurio had been perhaps one of those hit hardest by the ban. Viktor, Mila, and Georgi were returning Olympians, but Yurio was just getting his first taste. He looked dwarfed by the oversized grey coat and white beanie. Coupled with his furrowed brow and pursed lips, Yuuri couldn’t help but admit Yurio looked strikingly like a cat whose fur has been ruffled the wrong way. 

“Ah cheer up Yurio.” Before Yurio could insist that that was not, in fact, his name, Viktor reached into his pocket. “I’ve got this.”

Yuuri could only smile slightly as Viktor whipped out a miniature Russian flag. “Here.” He reached out and tucked it into the coat of a stunned looking Yurio. “Now remember Yurio,” and Viktor raised one finger like he was slipping into coaching mode, “Yest’ veshchi kotoryye oni nikogda ne uberut ot nas.”

Whatever he said seemed to bring some semblance of a smile to Yurio’s face, as the boy’s hand instinctually reached for the flag next to his heart. “...spasibo.” He muttered, staring firmly at the ground.

Yuuri felt his heart quiver slightly. The moment was abruptly ruined by Yurio turning on his heel and stalking off the way he had come. “Now come on Viktor! We’ve wasted enough time.”

Viktor looked back to smile at Yuuri, eyes large and bright. “I bet you he’d waste at least five minutes or more if he stopped to greet his Kazakh friend.” 

He stared back at Viktor’s eyes. “I believe you.” And he felt the corners of his lips turn up. 

Something changed in Viktor’s face, and he took a step closer. “Yuuri…” And suddenly Viktor was kissing him very hard on the mouth. Yuuri had only enough wits left to reach forward and run his hand across Viktor’s cheek, and then Viktor was pulling away, to flash one last brilliant smile at him, before turning and dashing back up the line.

Dazed, Yuuri’s hand came up to his lips subconsciously. He turned back to his team, to find Minami-kun staring at him wide eyed. The boy’s face flushed as bright as the streak in his hair and his gaze darted back to his phone, looking incredibly nervous. 

Yuuri could only laugh. 

 

 

 

In another corner of the floor below the stadium, Guang-hong was anxiously trying to connect to the WIFI. He’d spotted Katsuki Yuuri a way up ahead when they were coming in but had felt too nervous to approach him. Leo was too far up ahead in the lineup to go and try to come back in time, and the next closest was JJ, who Guang-hong felt no great desire to speak with for any length of time. He’d resorted to texting, and while the signal was shaky, it was enough for Leo to suggest trying FaceTime.

At long last, the signal came back, and his phone lit up with Leo’s caller ID. He nervously accepted the call and was almost immediately greeted by Leo’s sunshine grin. 

“Hey Guang-hong?” He could barely hear Leo from the roar of the Americans around the other boy. “Can you hear me?”

“Barely.” He smiled back. It was relatively quiet where he was, as quiet as it could get in the roar of this many people, but Leo’s voice was barely discernable over the wildness occurring around him. On the small screen, it appeared to Guang-hong as though the American’s had decided to host a sort of impromptu pep-rally. “What’s going on where you are?”

Leo edged away from his countrymates and the noise descended to a low hum in the background. “Ah, the usual. The hockey teams started calling out cheers and stuff. What about you?”

He glanced around. “Nothing really, we’re all just waiting, with our phones.” 

Leo grinned. “Check your Instagram.”

“Okay…” Brow furrowed, Guang-hong did so, minimizing the call and clicking on the app. The first thing he saw when it came up was Phichit’s face, along with what seemed the entirety of the Norwegian women’s hockey team. 

“Goodness…” He continued to scroll. It almost seemed impossible, the number of selfies that Phichit had managed to get and subsequently post. There he was with a German speed skater, Yurio, who looked as though this picture had been taken without his permission, as he was neither attempting to smile or looking at the camera. Ah, there he was with Leo, and an American snowboarder Guang-hong couldn’t remember the name of. An Israeli ice dancer, Katsuki Yuuri and two younger Japanese athletes, and a Georgian downhill skier. 

On the other end of the line, Leo was laughing. “I think’s just going down the hall getting selfies.”

Guang-hong could only smile bemusedly. “Trust Phichit to do this.” 

“That’s right!” He looked up in astonishment, just in time to catch the tail end of a camera flash. Blinking rapidly, He stared. “Phichit? You really are just going down the line taking selfies?”

The other skater’s face was flushed. Despite his obvious lack of breath, he reached out and grabbed Guang-hong around the neck. “Smile!” He barely had time to hold up a quick peace sign before Phichit was off and running again. “See you later!” Phichit called over his shoulder, before disappearing around the corner, presumably to take more selfies and eventually catch up to his team. 

“He caught you too huh?” Guang-hong looked back at his phone and set Leo’s face back to full size. “Do you think He’ll make it in time?”

Leo laughed again. “I’m sure he will.” His phone moves, enough that Guang-hong can catch sight of ridiculous looking tasseled gloves and an incredibly non-matching alpine sweater. 

“So.” He grinned widely at the American. “What’s with that outfit?”

 

 

 

 

Otabek isn’t expecting any texts, so the vibration of his phone comes as a surprise to him. He’d been waiting calmly with his teammates, most of whom are also unspeaking, when he feels the vibration in his pocket. When he opens it, it’s a text from Phichit Chulanont, whom he doesn’t know very well, and can’t seem to remember exchanging numbers with. Huh. Weird. 

The pictures only serve to confuse him more. They appear to have been taken from where the television broadcast cameras should be but are obviously captured on iPhone. The first thing he sees is Yurio, held high into the air by Georgi and a redhead he recognizes from women’s singles. He has his arms out behind him like a swan, and has his legs supported up behind him, making him not dissimilar to a figure head of a ship. His white hat and gloves are missing, and his blond hair is flying back in the wind. There’s a collection of about seven of these photos, from various angles. Viktor Nikiforov is visible in several, hat and gloves missing, and conspicuously waving with the hand that has a shimmer of gold on the ring finger.

His brow furrows. He texts back ‘How did you get my number?’. 

The response is immediate. ‘lol i know people’.

This does not reassure him in anyway. ‘Phichit, how did you get my number? And why are you in my contacts?’

He sighs heavily. The only response he is given is another set of photos containing much the same as the last set. Yurio is now posed like a ballerina, arms in fourth position and legs held in double attitude. He’s smiling now, and Otabek can only stare for a moment at the boy, blond hair in his face and green eyes glinting. 

A new text from Phichit pops up. ‘Happy Olympics ;)’

He’s a little unsure what the winky-face emoji is supposed to signify, but he accepts the sentiment. ‘And to you as well.’

He pockets his phone, as the line has started to move forward again. It still hitting him in small bits and pieces. He’s at the Olympics. He’s representing Kazakhstan at the Olympics. He’s able to take everything he has worked for, all the hours he’s bled and sweat and cried, and now the world is going to see him. 

Otabek can’t help but smile. 

 

 

 

As the other nations are still filing in, Yuuri has been on his phone. Minami-kun had stayed glued to his side the entire time and is currently squirming excitedly in the seat next to him. 

There’s quite a few Instagram notifications. Yuuri opens the application and is greeted by a short video of Emil dancing his heart out as the Czech Republic walks the path. He scrolls down and smiles as he makes his way through Phichit’s selfie adventure. There’s a few photos of Yurio being held up in the air like a pairs dancer and smiling of all things. There’s a bit in Sara’s story of her and Michele dancing as they walk and singing in the rolling sounds of Italian. He see’s a photo of Christophe carrying the Swiss flag and crying a little. JJ is crying a lot in the photo he posts, and his girlfriend is the first comment. 

Minami has started chatting to the athlete on his left, and the familiar sounds of Japanese rouse Yuuri from his phone. He looks down at the auditorium, and Hungary is just finishing their walk. Hong Kong begins to come in, and Yuri takes a moment to really glance around him. He hasn’t looked around fully, as when he came into the stands he was mainly concerned with finally sitting down. 

He thinks he sees Guang-hong amongst the white clad Chinese athletes, but he isn’t sure. If he looks over his left shoulder he can see the Russians, though it’s too far for him to pick out any familiar faces. 

The roaring of the crowd interrupts his train of thought and he looks back to the stage floor. Korea is coming out now. 

He stands, as do many of the people around him. The noise is such that it makes him want to curl up under the plastic seat for what little peace it will afford him. 

Minami-kun has started bawling next to him, and Yuuri places an awkward hand on his shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. He looks back down, at all the smiling and cheering faces below, all clad in white, and bearing white flags with the outline of the Korean peninsula. He see’s Seung-gil, at the very pack of the group. The dancing lady in pink has to nudge him a few times, as the South Korean skater seems to be dragging his feet a little. Soon he too is lost among the sea of white. 

The noise fades out a little, and Yuuri finds himself breathing easily. Maybe, just maybe, this is what world peace looks like.

It’s beautiful. 

The rest of the ceremony seems to pass in a blur. He watches in admiration as the South Korean figure skating legend Kim Yuna lights the torch with an air of ethereal grace. Yuuri thinks that maybe if ever a goddess walked on earth, it would look like that. 

Eventually all good things must come to an end. People around him begin to get up and leave. Yuuri can’t deny it is quite cold out, but he thinks that maybe, if he stays seated, the magic won’t go away. Maybe it will linger, if he does. 

Minami-kun is dragged off by his new friends from earlier, and he waves goodbye at Yuuri as he goes.

He is finally alone now. The noise and lights of the stadium surround him, and people are still moving and talking everywhere. It’s almost as loud as the audio during the ceremony. 

But the area of a twenty-foot radius around him is empty of other living things, and for the first time in about a week and a half, Yuuri feels like he is able to breathe. 

His moment of calm is short lived. He turns, and there is Viktor, clambering up the seats themselves instead of taking the stairs like any normal person would. 

“Yuuri!” He calls, quite loudly, but maybe this has simply become part of Yuuri’s calm. His heart does not speed with anxiety, but something else instead. It is…pleasant. 

The figure skater finally stands and makes his way over to his fiancé. Viktor is out of breath, his pale face flushed completely pink, and he’s missing his gloves and his hat. He’s attached a tiny Russian flag to the front of his grey coat, and his scarf is trailing slightly. The wind has swept his hair into something that rather resembles a bird’s nest, and one of his shoelaces in untied. 

Yuuri simply smiles and holds his arms out. Viktor all but dives for him, and then Yuuri is held in what have become his favorite pair of arms to be held by. 

“Hey Yuuri?” Viktor is almost whispering. 

Yuuri smiles. “Yes, aisuru?”

He can almost see Viktor melt slightly at the Japanese endearment. Viktor stands back from him slightly, leaving his arms wrapped around him. His smile is brighter than all the lights that have blinded Yuuri today. “Happy Winter Olympics.” 

Yuuri smiles back, though he knows his smile will never be as beautiful as Viktor’s. “And to you.”


End file.
